Thanks for visiting. I'm a recent transplant to the Boston Massachusetts area, living with my boyfriend while he completes his MBA. I'm originally from Utah, I like Apple, FileMaker, writing about my feelings, and eating edamame.
On Saturday evening, one of SML’s co-workers invited us over for the evening. These small parties are dangerous because the amount of alcohol available is unbelievable. The host of these small parties is so famously attentive to your drinking glass that another guest commented to me that you are to come to these parties only after you’ve successfully cleared the entire next day; so you can sleep off the inevitable hangover.
My first experience with a party like this happened last summer just as SML and I began dating. Having a glass that never empties is a daunting experience because I felt more determined than ever to finish every last drop just in case prohibition made a comeback. Near the end of the night I wanted to crawl onto the floor and fall asleep under their dining table; but instead kept a very interested look on my face that is very similar look for someone with constipation. It didn’t matter how hard I concentrated because I never understood a word of the conversation but nodded appreciatively every time my glass was refilled.
I have since learned my lesson. And it doesn’t matter how pretty your wine glass is either, because passing out in a drunken stupor seriously clashes with the decor. On Saturday night I was certain to leave my glass half-full throughout the night because it meant that it couldn’t be refilled; and also because I’m purely optimistic.
SML, who understandably had a stressful week, emptied his glass several times on Saturday night. And then he kept asking what a hummer was. Over and over again he’d spout off, “What’s a hummer?” “Hey you guys, does anyone know what a hummer is?” I tried to get his attention so I could tell him I would fill him in later, but failed miserably because someone had already heard him. It was the Hostess of the party that finally asked, “You really don’t know what a hummer is?”
There was a deafening silence to this question and I felt incredibly embarrassed that this conversation was being held around a candlelit centerpiece. I wanted to tell everyone we shouldn’t talk like this around Pottery Barn merchandise because it’s sacred and holy. With a very straight face, the Hostess looked at SML and answered his question: “IT’S A BLOWJOB.”
Seriously Gay 
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